Page 139 of Fire and Silk

He understands immediately.

His fingers press something cold into my palm. A folding blade, simple, surgical. I flick it open with my thumb. The edge hits the light.

The closest man tenses.

I walk to him slowly. My boots echo . He’s breathing through his mouth, trembling, split lip shaking. I crouch in front of him and tilt my head.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

I hum. The sound is light, nearly pleasant. My hand lifts, not quickly. I trace the flat side of the blade along his jaw, then down to his neck. His pulse hammers against the steel.

“I’m going to ask once more,” I murmur. “And after that, you’re going to lose something.”

Matteo doesn’t shift. Severo doesn’t move.

The man spits blood at my boot.

I smile.

The blade flashes forward—slicing his mouth open. Matteo looks away and Serevo chuckles as the man screams.

One of the others breaks.

His voice cracks as he stares at the blood running down his friend’s chin.

“Don Calvani!” he blurts, eyes wide. “It was Don Calvani—he’s the one who set it up!”

The chains rattle as he leans forward. “He said the Dantés were distracted, that your focus was off since—”

He stops himself too late.

I turn toward him.

Walk slowly.

The bloodied man on the ground is still groaning, body quivering, mouth a slick red line. I step over him and crouch in front of the second man.

He flinches.

“Thank you,” I say gently. “That was all I needed.”

His jaw quivers. I reach forward and pat his cheek twice.

Then I rise and turn back to Matteo. “Take care of it.”

Matteo nods , already moving.

Severo’s hand comes to the small of my back, steadying.

****

The water is warm, a slow balm against the chill that always finds its way into my bones after nights like these. My back rests against his chest, legs stretched out along his, and his hands— scarred, sure—are curled loosely over my waist.

The marble walls of the bathing room glisten. Candlelight flickers against gold sconces, casting long shadows. Everything smells like cedar and something citrusy from the oil Matteo insisted I try. But none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.